


Born From Ashes

by missingnolovefic



Series: Terms and Conditions Apply [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Immortality, Temporary Character Death, phoenix!Lindsay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many kinds of immortality in this world, and none of them the same as the other. And all of them came with their own weaknesses.</p><p>Lindsay is a phoenix. She finds a family in the FAHC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born From Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plaindealingvillainess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaindealingvillainess/gifts).



> I was talking immortal fahc ideas with [plaindealingvillainess](http://plaindealingvillainess.tumblr.com) last night and then this happened.

Lindsay had learned quickly that hiding her true form was for the best. Over the centuries she'd watched as her family was hunted down, one by one, for their pretty appearance or their abilities. One by one they vanished, and eventually Lindsay had turned her back on her home. The Golden era was over, and with time humanity would forget about them. She'd rather be forgotten and live out the rest of her life as a human.

Some fates were worse than death.

Humans were an interesting bunch. She met many fascinating individuals over the years – a sailor who stumbled upon the fountain of youth. A war veteran who healed from the most grievous of wounds. A shaman of old, still practicing the ancient traditions of spiritual enlightenment. A cursed nobleman who survived on blood. A boy who suddenly stopped aging one day and had yet to notice.

There were many kinds of immortality in this world, and none of them the same as the other. And all of them came with their own weaknesses.

Time passed her by, and she continued to repeat the cycle of life. She hadn't seen any of her own kind in ages, and maybe they were hiding as well. Maybe they had gotten as good at their human disguises as she had, and they were simply unable to tell each other apart from regular humans. Or maybe she was the last of her kind – she couldn't quite tell, and the thought scared her.

There was always a way to kill an immortal, if you knew how.

Finally, she settled down in the Americas. It wasn't what it used to be – hadn't been in centuries. But she had caught sight of the war veteran, still kicking long past his expiration date. Lindsay followed him down the streets, curious to learn what had become of the man she once knew. So she followed him through dark alleys and into a crooked building. There was a guard posted at the door, but she just smiled sweetly at him and he let her past.

Geoff Ramsey didn't recognize her.

It wasn't a surprise, either. She had changed a lot since, and they'd only known each other briefly. Ramsey hadn't changed much – he dressed old-fashioned, but at least he had adapted to a modern haircut. His mustache fit in nicely, as well. She watched him from across the bar as he held court at one of the tables. It was easy to deduce that this speakeasy belonged to him.

Crime suited him surprisingly well.

With a smile, she sipped her moonshine and waited for an opportunity. Her blood was burning like it hadn't for a long time, excitement licking like the flames in her soul. And as she settled in beside Ramsey, batting her lashes coquettishly, a secretive smile twisted her lips.

Yes. This, she could work with.

 

* * *

 

The Fake AH Crew became family.

One morning she woke up to Gavin and Michael crashed on her couch, a fondness warming her chest. She chittered quietly, preparing a breakfast for three without even thinking about it. As she set the plates down at the kitchen table, she paused and stared. Then she shook herself and went to wake her boys, pushing the thought back down to inspect later.

But once she became aware of it, it got harder to ignore.

The group of young immortals gathering around Geoff had wormed their way into her heart without her realizing. Now she noticed every time she offered them food, how often she threw her arm over their shoulders (took them under her wing like fledglings) and the warmth she felt watching over them like a proud mama bird.

It was disconcerting, but not unwelcome. She'd learned a long time ago that she was no good at staying detached.

By day she followed Geoff around as his amanuensis, by night she was one of the flappers at his speakeasies. Rumour had her as the moll of any and all the men she regularly interacted with – from the boss to the lowest members of the crew. In truth, Geoff was grooming her as his heiress, much to her amusement. He didn't seem to realize her immortality and was preparing to leave her a fortune when he had to fake his death.

It was sweet, in a way.

In turn she made sure nothing dangerous came close to her boys. They might think themselves invincible, but she knew better. Lindsay had seen many immortals die in her days, and she was fiercely protective of her newfound family. Nothing resembling a stake made it anywhere close to the premises, silver bullets melted in her fire whenever she found one and crucifixes were strictly forbidden, as well as a plethora of other strange items.

Geoff indulged her in what he believed to be crazy superstitions, but Lindsay knew.

Oh, she knew.

 

* * *

 

“Well, hello there, doll,” Gavin said, grinning brightly down at her. Lindsay blinked up at him dazedly, the world shaking and shifting. “Watcha doing down there, luv?”

Lindsay groaned, closing her eyes. She'd been at their main speakeasy, intending to flirt her way into their rival spy's confidences. There had been a fight. At the bar. Her head pounded, someone had bashed a chair over her head because- oh. Right. Idiots.

“Someone demote the idiot that gave me away,” she ground out between gritted teeth, sitting up with a hiss. Gavin frowned worriedly at her, hands carefully checking her head for wounds. There was a bit of dried blood clotting her hair, but otherwise nothing too severe.

“We're on it, Linds, don't worry. Take a break, yeah?”

Lindsay chirped, nuzzling into Gavin's palm tiredly. The blond blinked down at her, before smiling gently. He helped her stand up, brushing the dust off her dress.

“Take it easy, Tuggey,” he said teasingly as she leaned against him. Lindsay hummed, nosing through the long tresses of his hair. He'd need a haircut soon. She shook her head, trying to shake off the part of her that insisted she needed to groom her nestlings.

“Yeah, yeah, Free,” she murmured, allowing herself to nuzzle his cheek just the once. “Go get Michael and put the fear of God into 'em.”

Gavin laughed, blushing. “You know we will.”

 

* * *

 

She frowned down at her mid-section, her beautiful dress slowly turning red. Well. This put a chink into her plans. From the way the gunshot wound was burning she knew she'd have to cut this cycle short – earlier than she had anticipated. Her boys would have to manage without her for a bit.

She glared down at the shooter, who looked up at her smugly.

“You shouldn't have done that, punk,” she snarled, lifting her assault rifle. With a quick _clack-clack-clack_ he had more holes than Swiss cheese, and the life was draining from his eyes.

She felt the energies pass her by, some of it diverting to be absorbed by Michael.

Lindsay smiled tiredly, dropping to her knees. At least she knew Michael would be full of life until she could return to make sure. She wished she could have ensured Gavin a fresh source of water – she'd have to bottle some of that fountain, it was a hazard to return to every other century. Maybe she could do that as a welcome back gift?

“Lindsay!” Jeremy shouted, his sensitive nose able to distinguish the smell of her blood from the massacre around them.

Lindsay grimaced, pressing her hand to her stomach. Crimson liquid dropped down her pale fingers, and she stared at them. She was cutting it close, should set herself afire already to make sure-

She'd seen enough of her kin die like this, permanently, refusing to give themselves towards the all-encompassing fires of life. She needed to reassure herself the others were okay – poor Jeremy, the pup was still new to all of this and the mixed group of immortals was not an ideal pack for a newly turned. She didn't know for certain if the others had enough information to keep him safe, but she had to trust that Ryan at least would know how to get his hands on that.

She had to trust her boys to stay alive and wait for her.

“Lindsay!” Michael yelled, and there were footsteps running towards her. Geoff dropped down at her side, eyes wide and face pale.

“I-” She coughed, blood dripping down her chin. She smiled. Looking around, she took in Michael's red face, Gavin's brilliant eyes, Jeremy's scrunched nose- took it all in and memorized it. Just in case.

“Shh,” Geoff hushed her, wrapping his arms around her. He swallowed, lifting her hand from the wound. She was losing too much blood.

“S'fine,” she slurred, forcing her mouth to form the words. She frowned, unsure how much they would be able to make out. She should have told them earlier. “-back. Love you.”

Lindsay pushed insistently at Geoff, settling down on the ground in a comfortable position. “Back,” she urged them, swatting weakly at the hands reaching for her.

“Linds,” Michael choked out, catching her hand and squeezing. She let out an irritated chirrup.

“ _Back_.”

There was a stifled sob, and she wasn't sure if it was Geoff or Gavin, but the world was growing dark around the edges, and she had to _hurry_.

She opened her eyes to slits, peering at her nestlings. The idiots were crowding close, but they had stopped touching her. Good enough, she decided with a heavy sigh. They healed fast, most of them, and she was starting to fade away. She'd run out of time.

“πολεμικὸν πῦρ,” she whispered. _Polemikòn pŷr._ Fire of War.

Flames surged up, her blood boiling. She burned from the inside out, and with a hoarse cry, fire engulfed her body. Distantly, she heard her nestlings' panicked shouts, and she opened ruby eyes to watch them scramble away. She smiled.

The fires rose towards the heavens, and only ashes were left behind.

 

* * *

 

It took her almost a decade to return home. She'd been weak after her forced Burning and unable to sustain a human form for more than a couple hours at best. And maybe it would have been better to recuperate in peace, but she had been impatient.

She really needed to check in on the fledglings.

Their old headquarters had been deserted, a condemned building on the verge of collapsing. Instead she had to follow the rumours. An especially bloody kill that had to have been Ryan's work. Whispers about the Kingpin that ruled the city with an iron fist. A man with a strange accent and all the charm of the seven seas. _The Fakes_ , they murmured, before fearfully looking around as if the name alone might have summoned them.

Lindsay smiled wistfully. Her boys had made a name for themselves in Los Santos and the surrounding cities.

Finally, she found Ramsey's mansion. The security was tight, guards openly carrying guns at the gates and doors, patrolling the grounds. None of this was a problem for Lindsay – she turned into a small, red bird and simply flew in through an open window. Inside, she wasted no time returning to human form.

Looking around, she realized she ended up in a den. There was a fireplace, the embers still glowing from when it had last been lit. A big table and cushioned chairs, a couch and a piano. Grinning, she tapped a few keys, closing her eyes at the half-remembered song filling the air.

She turned, eying the paintings. There were several recreations and a few originals. Stepping closer, she could make out a wolf chasing a sailor around a meadow, a shadowed figure watching from beyond the trees. Representations of all her boys were scattered across the paintings in various forms – here and there the artist had added locks of red hair, vanishing behind buildings or bushes.

She smiled sadly, tracing along the brushstrokes. They had remembered her – mourned and grieved for her apparent death probably.

She really should have gotten around to telling them earlier.

The mantelpiece called to her, and she inspected the few items carefully. A golden gun, more for show than use. A framed certificate. An urn full of ashes.

Lindsay frowned. Were those-

“I don't know how you got in,” a voice drawled behind her, shortly followed by the click of a gun. “But I suggest you surrender now. Otherwise...”

He trailed off ominously, and Lindsay couldn't help herself. She laughed.

“What the-”

She turned around, smiling brightly. Michael stared, mouth gaping open. He looked good, she decided with a quick flick of her eyes. Well-fed. He'd put on some muscles, too. Lindsay raised her hands, grinning mischievously.

“Miss me?” she teased, and Michael dropped the gun.

“I- Lindsay? How-” He gulped, eyes wide. “We thought you were dead.”

She laughed, stepping closer and sweeping him up into a tight hug. She buried her nose in his red curls and breathed in deeply, chittering lowly. His arms came up around her slowly. He was shaking.

“Long story,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheek. “Let's get the others and I'll tell you, 'kay?”

He nodded, letting her go reluctantly. Michael wiped the back of his hands over his eyes, and she glanced away, pretending not to see the wetness staining his cheeks. She caught his free hand instead and squeezed.

They had a lot to catch up on.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure which of the others I should do next. I'm partial to Jeremy though - thoughts?
> 
> Now with extra [beautiful aesthetic](http://miss-ingno.tumblr.com/post/147254353252/plaindealingvillainess-cause-you-know-i-will) :D


End file.
